


Orange

by Tinevisce



Series: V.I.B.G.Y.O.R [6]
Category: Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:55:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23742652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinevisce/pseuds/Tinevisce
Summary: When her husband tentatively says, “Bete ke pati ko kaise apnana hai mujhe nahi pata Sunaina ji” one night in bed, Sunaina isn’t surprised. Of late, she has been aware of a shadow outside Keshav’s room when they sit listening to Kartik every week- it isn’t a spectre of fear so much as it is one of burning regret that doesn’t know how to atone.“Pati toh thehra aapke bete ka na? Woh aap Aman pe hi chod do. Aapke liye woh thehra aapka daamaad, aapka dusra beta”
Relationships: Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi
Series: V.I.B.G.Y.O.R [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686157
Comments: 21
Kudos: 37





	Orange

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Whelp! So this one really changed from what I conceived it as originally and what actually ended up being put down on paper. Gifting this to Rasnak who's always just there like our personal cheerleader with words of encouragement; I keep seeing her ALWAYS encouraging new and old writers in the fandom..THANK YOU, Rasnak. Hope you like this.
> 
> Also, to my readers: is Keshav being Chaman and Champa's son (Goggle's brother) actually canon, fanon or just my head-canon?

ORANGE

Two days after Aman storms out of their house and their lives, Sunaina finds Shankar weeping in his nursery. Big, fat tears roll down his cheeks as he holds up one of his _kaali_ _gobi_ ’s: by the orange light of the setting sun, she sees that the vegetable is crawling with worms. She knows they’re _all_ crawling with worms.

A wave of revulsion rises inside her; sharp, acrid. She will tell herself later that it was because of the insects creeping all over the room.

“Sunaina, _humara beta-_ ” Shankar can’t get the rest of the sentence out as another sob chokes him, and like a small child desperate for relief, he grabs her hand.

She feels old as she sits down beside her husband, in the way her knees protest as they bend, in the way just how _done_ she feels. She doesn’t offer any platitudes or words of comfort: Shankar may have regressed back to a bewildered child, but she isn’t feeling up to being anyone’s mother at the moment. Given her track record, she thinks it’s probably for the best.

Eventually, the flood of grief quietens down to a slow trickle and Shankar is able to speak again. Between occasional hiccoughs, he talks; tells her about how he had seen boys like _them_ once many years ago at the public toilets of a park. She forces herself to focus on his words, allows her mind to conjure up the images. The darkness, the stench of faeces and urine, the two men rutting like animals. She isn’t quite sure exactly what sin she is supposed to be flagellating herself for, but it seems important for her in this moment to not shut it out. To feel the shame burn its way down from the top of her head to her toes.

“ _Kaise jeeyenge iske saath hum?_ ” Shankar’s question is plaintive, and it causes a flash of irritation to ignite inside her.

“Aman _se puch lijiye. 30 saal se jeeya hai na usne iske saath?_ ”

* * *

It isn’t love and affection that binds joint families together in India: it’s mostly toxic relationships. In many ways, the endless politics, bullying, jibes, and taunts are- reassuring. Here are people you can be absolutely nasty to but also can count on to help you when you need it. The _jethani_ will spend countless hours at the _devrani’s_ throat but will also spend countless hours taking care of her when she’s ill. And then turn right back around and use it as ammunition for another decade or so.

The cycles of abuse and bullying can become a comfort, a familiar scale to base your own root note on.

However, when one family member refuses to get with the program and just ups and leaves- it can be a bewildering experience for the rest. Are they supposed to be _kind_ to each other now?

Sunaina thinks the idea is more than a little obscene.

“Aman _ka number nahi lag raha hai. Ek hafta ho gaya hai_ ” Shankar Tripathi is staring at his phone, food untouched on his plate

Meals at the Tripathi household have become subdued affairs of late. In this new world order where apparently the sons of the family can not only fall in love with other men but actually expect acceptance: the old, worn patterns are beginning to fray and fall apart.

Champa isn’t quite sure if her decades-old indictment of favouritism will cause actual _hurt_ now instead of the usual offense it’s meant to cause. Sunaina does not quite know if the taunts about Champa’s upbringing will cause her _devrani_ to actually leave the household like how she’s been threatening to do for years.

In this new world where up isn’t down and down isn’t a polite enough term to use, it’s difficult to know what to say.

Aman’s behaviour, of course, is easy enough to parse for anybody who knows him well enough. “ _Sazaa de raha hai humein woh,_ ” Sunaina informs her husband, “ _Kartik se alag karne ki koshish ki thi na humnein- toh ab us tak pohochne ka bas Kartik hi ek zariya choda hai usney_ ”

Shankar looks devastated at that, but a hard-edged smile is beginning to form on Sunaina’s face. If she can’t have her son’s love, she can learn to be content with knowing they warrant enough importance in his life that he still wants to hurt them. He isn’t saying, _I don’t want anything to do with you_ but _If you want me back, you’ll have to suffer for it_.

“ _Kartik ka number hum kaha se layenge?_ ” Shankar turns to Chaman; the brothers share a moment of mutual helplessness.

Champa and Sunaina turn to Goggle and Keshav. Keshav twitches in a way that makes both the older women share a look which doesn’t bode well for the boy’s immediate future while Goggle gives them a non-committal shrug and goes back to eating breakfast. She manages to compress several terse messages into the shrug.

_Yes, I’m in touch with them. Yes, they’re fine. No, I am not interested in being your passenger pigeon_.

* * *

In an uncharacteristic show of solidarity that leaves Sunaina rather unsettled, Champa contrives to leave Keshav alone with her on the terrace later in the day. The late afternoon hush lies heavily on the neighbourhood; Sunaina and her nephew may as well be the only two people in the entire, rambling house of a home.

Keshav, apparently coming to the very same conclusion, gulps and clutches his beloved iPad closer to his chest.

Sunaina smiles at him. It isn’t very reassuring.

  
“ _Beta, tumhari woh iPad mein se tum logon ki sab kundli nikaaltein ho na?_ ”

“ _Taiji, Aman bhaiya social media mein nahi hai_ ” Keshav is edging backwards in a way that suggests he’s seriously evaluating whether she’ll actually give chase if he makes a break for it.  
For the sake of both his dignity and her knee-caps, she sincerely hopes it won’t come to that. “ _Main Aman ki kundli nahi nikalne ko bol rhi hu, beta. Kartik ke baare mein jaanna chahti hu_ ”

“ _Taiji,_ ” Keshav looks just about ready to burst into tears, _“agar Aman bhaiya ko pata chala na, toh khatm kar denge mujhe_ ”

He probably has a point, Sunaina reluctantly concedes to herself. But- “ _Mujhse bachega pehle, tab jaake Aman ke haathon marega na. Jo maang rahi hu woh de de mujhe nahi toh tujhe aur tere_ iPad _ko Ganga mein bahaan dungi_ ”

And at the threat, Sunaina is both rather surprised and more than a little impressed that Keshav’s back and shoulders straighten, and an all-too-familiar fire ignites in his eyes. “ _Jiju bohot acche hain, taiji. Bhaiya se bohot pyaar kartein hain_ _woh_ ”  
Jiju? _Jiju_? Just what is it about Kartik Singh that incites rebellion and mayhem in perfectly normal people? Does his brand of witchcraft affect everyone like this or are Tripathi boys specifically vulnerable?  
Well. If Keshav has already been enthralled, good old-fashioned bullying probably won’t work at all. However, Sunaina is a resourceful woman; she hasn’t become the matriarch of the Tripathi circus for naught.

She gracelessly sits down on the cot beside her and sighs with weariness: the fatigue a lot less feigned than what she would have liked; but she’s a resourceful woman who knows how to work with what she has. In any case, it’s working because Keshav has come to sit beside her.

“ _Beta, humein pata hain ki tum bacchon ke liye ye sab_ accept _karna jitna aasaan hai utna hi mushkil hai samajhna ki hum badein-buzurg kyu nahi_ accept _kar pa rahein hain-_ ”

“ _Pyaar toh pyaar hai na, taiji. Ismein itni_ accept _karni wali baat kaunsi hai_?”

Sunaina has to chuckle at that. “ _Chalo, maan liya tumhari baat. Phir bhi, who kaisa ladka hai itna jaanna toh humara banta hai, nahi_?”

A few minutes later, she is scrolling through Kartik’s photos on Keshav’s iPad. Most of them are ridiculous selfies against an equally ridiculous assortment of backdrops. Aman does not appear in any of the them. Her mother’s eyes note the exhaustion in the hooded eyes in many of the pictures, the panic-fuelled-defiance in the curve of his shoulders.

It isn’t until she scrolls farther down the feed that she sees a picture that captures her complete attention. The photo doesn’t seem to be a selfie, but a candid moment caught on camera by someone else.

Kartik looks… baffled. Like what he’s seeing is something he was very sure wasn’t personally applicable to him. Something that happens to _other people_ in _other universes_ , not to him and certainly not his universe. She knows exactly what he’s looking at. She has _seen_ exactly what Kartik is seeing in this picture because she has seen the way her son looks at Kartik.

It’s fear that surges up and churns in Sunaina’s stomach. These two are stupid, idiotic _children_. Don’t they know that the world can’t wait to sink its ichor-stained teeth into love like theirs and rip and rip and rip until there’s nothing left but blood and gore? They will be butchered.

(Her fear curdles into something sourer when she remembers that these two children had come to them for Sanctuary. They had been denied.)

She sighs again; runs a fond hand through Keshav’s hair and returns his iPad.

* * *

It turns out that Kartik can sing. Presumably, Keshav is the one who discovers that he usually posts videos of himself singing covers and even original compositions once every week or so. At some point, Champa and Chaman also either find out or are told.

Sunaina finds the three clustered together one day in Keshav’s room, watching something very intently on that thrice-damned iPad. A boyish voice is singing a song that she isn’t familiar with it, although she _knows_ that voice.

Chaman looks up to see her at the threshold of the room. “ _Bhabhi, dekhiye, bohot accha gaata hai ladka_ ”

There is no guile in Chaman’s eyes, no censure or challenge in his voice. Many people, herself included during the early years of her marriage, dismiss the man as being a simple fool that everyone takes for granted. Sunaina has learned over the decades though, that Chaman’s childlike geniality is a conscious choice.

She thinks Chaman may very well be the subtlest one in the family. Sometimes, when Chaman acts like that nothing has happened, it’s easy to follow suit and pretend that nothing actually had.

She joins the three in listening to Kartik sing about how someone is enough for him. The boyish voice sings it like a grand proclamation of love; in snatches though, the tired adult breaks through and she realises that the song is as much about defying rejection as it is an affirmation of love. This one person Kartik is singing about has become his world because the rest of the world wants nothing to do with him.

* * *

She begins to look forward to these glimpses into Kartik’s life. Aman, as always, is completely absent in any of the photos or videos he puts out; but she can see her son and his presence in everything Kartik posts in tiny imperceptible ways she isn’t quite sure how to articulate to herself. The part of her heart that has always been incredibly proud of being the most important person for Aman is galled and humiliated at having to eke out scraps of her son’s life third-hand through Kartik’s eyes and then Keshav’s iPad.

The other part of her, the one growing more clamorous every day, knows that this is the lot she richly deserves. All these decades her son had spent suffocating in his half-life and she had never even deigned to even ask if he needed help?

(Its clamour dies down a little over the passing weeks as she sees a gradual change in Kartik’s body language, in the newfound tranquility that the young man seems to be radiating more and more. It settles down a tiny bit more when she sees the changes in their apartment’s décor; the colours and the soft lights and the old books. Her boys are okay.)

When her husband tentatively says, “ _Bete ke pati ko kaise apnana hai mujhe nahi pata_ Sunaina _ji_ ” one night in bed, she isn’t surprised. Of late, she has been aware of a shadow outside Keshav’s room when they sit listening to Kartik every week- it isn’t a specter of fear so much as it is one of burning regret that doesn’t know how to atone.

“ _Pati toh thehra aapke bete ka na? Woh aap Aman pe hi chod do. Aapke liye woh thehra aapka daamaad, aapka dusra beta_ ”

“ _Thik, thik. Bacchon ko bula lenge hum ghar_. _Woh- woh ayengein na,_ Sunaina _ji_?”

Sunaina doesn’t answer the question because she will not be able to keep the tears out of her voice if she tries to speak. She lays her head down on Shankar’s chest and closes her eyes, feels a lone traitorous tear trickle down her cheek and land on his shirt.

**Author's Note:**

> Orange is the colour of courage, of being brave enough to change and DO even when it's super hard. I'm the first person to say that I'm just DONE with homophobia; really I am, but with that said, I remember watching the scene of Shankar Tripathi just weeping in the film and feeling my heart break for this man. I wanted to- not justify his homophobia, but at least explore why homosexuality is such a big deal for so many heterosexual people. Surprise, surprise: can it be that their picture of homosexuality is cruising in toilets and inappropriate touching in crowded trains? That's why representation is so important!
> 
> I originally planned for this piece to have a scene with our boys actually travelling down to Allahabad but this had already got too long. I might probably still write that scene; but I did want to get this out first.


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